


Power and Control

by temptresslove



Series: Power Couple [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ew, Immediate Sexual Attraction, Love(?) at First Sight(?), M/M, Politics, Powerful Harry, Powerful Tom Riddle, Super Duo Tom and Harry, What is l o v 3, better, maybe mutually beneficial alliance at first sight, that sounded, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 04:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptresslove/pseuds/temptresslove
Summary: “Mr. Riddle,” Potter said softly. “I’m surprisedyouknow who I am.”His face remained docile, his eyes for a moment looked down, as if maintaining eye contact with a man as handsome as Tom Riddle was too much for his chastity. But before he casted his eyes down, Tom thought he saw something flash—amusement, as if he knew exactly why Riddle would know everyone at the ball.Interesting.





	Power and Control

Ethereal—that was the first word that came to mind when Lucius saw the boy.

There was something about the way he walked—light and almost floating, his alabaster skin glowing under the lights, and his messy black hair framing his face perfectly. He looked like a faerie, really. Not quite human, but _just_ had human enough qualities to be allowed to walk the mortal realm.

He looked young, but certainly not young enough for Lucius _not_ to be interested.

The moment Lucius saw his face, he knew he was done for.

What that face would look, with a dick choking him, tears probably streaming down his face, cheeks red with embarrassment and arousal… Lucius could only wonder. And he was small. He would fit nicely underneath Lucius.

He was alone too which certainly made things easier.

But, the boy looked familiar… aristocratic. That line of thought made Lucius stop in his tracks, realizing he had never seen the boy before. Certainly, anyone who attended the ministry ball held some sort of importance, and if the boy’s parents were here…

It wasn’t that Lucius was not influential in his own right.

But he was not stupid, pureblood heir though he may be but there were other families who held power as well.

He spent the whole night obsessively watching the boy, biding his time, observing…

The boy knew Ron Weasley. Even from a distance, Lucius could almost hear the boy. He was talking so softly, eyes looking up shyly at the Weasley boy.

Then he was alone again.

Lucius decided that he wasn’t exactly planning anything… bad. He just wanted to talk to the boy, to meet him, to be _friends_ with him. Yes, that was it. And surely if the boy’s parents knew who he was, they would be proud to have him friends with a Malfoy heir.

With new resolve, he made his way to the boy, gaining more and more confidence along the way until he saw… No. No. _No_.

Of all the people… the boy could bump into—he wasn’t looking where he was going…

The boy had to run into _Tom Riddle_ of all people.

Lucius should have approached the boy earlier.

Because now that he was in Tom’s clutches, there was no escaping. Not when the boy looked so much like frightened bird, and Tom’s predatory gaze was already focused on him.

* * *

Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles as he watched two of the brightest wizards of their generation converse.

Tom Riddle, the man who’s managed to climb his way up the Ministry in less than five years, was only twenty-two years old. And Harry Potter, the last surviving heir of the Potter family, and by adoption, the only living heir of the Blacks, only recently turned eighteen.

Both were unusually intelligent, charismatic, and held key positions in the government.

Tom was brilliant, not even Dumbledore could deny that. He had breezed through Hogwart’s courses, graduated top of his class, and was admired by everyone, including his Slytherin pureblood classmates even though he was only a half-blood himself. He was meant for great things, and could easily accomplish anything the boy set his mind to. 

But he held dangerous ideals, ideals that clashed heavily with Dumbledore’s quest for inclusivity. Dumbledore had once tried to sway the boy to his side but he had failed. Just like he had with Gellert.

Dumbledore sighed.

Now there was also the predicament that was Harry Potter. 

Albus had only heard whispers about the boy from his informants overseas, but they were very… troubling. The boy had been adored by absolutely everyone in Durmstrang. He was a natural prodigy, Karkaroff’s very own favorite, even going as far as teaching the boy private lessons, claiming the boy had too much potential to be learning only from a classroom setting. 

It was the very kind of fanfare Tom Riddle had in Hogwarts.

And if that wasn’t enough, Harry Potter held tremendous power by birthright alone. Where Tom Riddle had to prove himself, Harry Potter had power served to him on a silver platter. It didn’t help that Regulus Black was very indulging and spoiled the boy rotten.

If only Sirius hadn’t died, Dumbledore might have influenced the boy in some way. But Regulus distrusted him, blaming him for the murder of his beloved brother. And Dumbledore did not blame him.

He sincerely hoped that the similarities between Harry and Tom ended in their reputations and that his worries were for naught.

Albus had even naively thought that Potter would be happy in Durmstrang and not come back. But now he was in Britain again, and had landed without so much of an announcement. Dumbledore only knew he was coming because of his sources. 

Albus did not quite know what to expect. Nobody has ever seen the boy since Regulus took him as his own.

But now he was here, and he had already been singled out by Tom Riddle from the crowd, out of all the people in the hall.

Immediately, the Hogwarts headmaster understood why he was well-liked in his old school. The boy held a certain air of innocence that made people want to protect him. His eyes were clearly Lily’s, green and wide, his porcelain skin inherited from his Potter bloodline, and his messy hair was James’ through and through. The contours of his face made him look rather naive. And he was quite short but it made him even look more child-like.

He was the exact contrast to Tom’s dark allure and impossibly tall height.

Dumbledore hoped, for the good of Britain, that they were simply just talking. And that Tom Riddle had no idea who the boy was.

But just to be sure, “Mr. Weasley,” he called the redhead. The boy turned to him, blushing. He still wasn’t used to be so close to his former headmaster.

“Sir?” he asked.

“You were childhood friends with Mr. Potter, were you not?” Dumbledore asked kindly. “Would you be so kind to introduce him to me?”

“Err, yes, sir,” the boy stammered and turned to find the Potter heir.

“Miss Granger,” he called, and without having to say anything, Hermione nodded and followed the redhead.

Dumbledore hoped that it was not yet too late to bring the Potter boy to his side, although it was already too late for Tom.

* * *

The people surrounded Tom like moths to a flame. 

Tom smiled charmingly, made them laugh, and engaged them in conversation. He just came from the peace negotiations with Germany and was feeling rather exhausted, but the ministry ball only happened once a year. It was important to someone like him, someone who was aiming to become the next Minister of Magic.

And of course, there was also the small matter that it was his duty as the Undersecretary to the current Minister of Magic.

Tom was vastly well-liked within these very circles—the elite and old bloods. Most of it could be attributed to his good looks… but those a little harder to charm immediately changed their minds when they talked to him.

Tom excused himself from the other guests to get some drinks. The energy it took to engage with people was tiring but necessary. The lot of them were quite simple and Tom did not have the patience he usually had.

He nodded politely to all the people he passed by as he went to the bar. He poured himself a glass of wine.

There were about three hundred people here tonight. He had already planned it out—which people he was going to converse with first, which wizards could introduce him to others he hasn’t met yet, and which people he was going to remind of his charm and his intellect.

It was going to be long night.

Tom looked around the room to find the Greengrass patriarch when suddenly someone bumped into him. Tom schooled his face to control the scowl that was threatening to form on his face. Of all the nights an _idiot_ decided to test his patience—

Green. All he could see was green. Those _eyes_.

For a moment, Tom forgot what he was going to do.

The boy had yelped softly, wide green eyes wincing in pain, and Tom felt the sudden urge to apologize.

The way he carried himself was obviously aristocratic, but he didn’t look like the son of any pureblood Tom knew. Tom tried to recall the guest list to place the stranger before him. 

Then it hit.

_This_ was the Potter and Black heir, hidden from public since he was orphaned by the age of two and was formally adopted and raised by Regulus Black himself.

This boy was heir to _two_ Wizangemont seats and held power superior more than anyone in the room except the Minister. When the time comes and the boy takes his rightful place in the British wizarding government, he could easily change the tides in the ministry’s decision-making with his vote alone.

Tom could not believe his luck.

“Mr. Potter,” he greeted easily, smiling a smile that he knew from experience made many witches blush. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He had only heard of the boy in whispers during his time at Hogwarts. The _poor_ Potter boy, they would say. Son of James and Lily Potter who were murdered by the dark lord Grindelwald, left to live without his parents, adopted by a Black tinged with the infamous family insanity. Never to be seen again, never to be heard of.

The green-eyed boy stared at him with his wide eyes, then in what Tom could only guess to be pureblood manners ingrained in him since birth, smiled back delicately, a faint blush on his cheeks.

Tom immediately wondered why the boy hasn’t debuted in society before. The Blacks were especially secretive, but to keep a boy as beautiful as this was almost criminal. Witches from pureblood families would compete for the Potter heir’s hand. Surely, even a half-blood such as Potter, especially with a silent charisma like _this_ was an asset.

“Mr. Riddle,” Potter said softly. “I’ve heard so much about you as well,” the boy enunciated every word perfectly despite his voice’s gentleness. “I’m surprised _you_ know who I am.”

His face remained docile, his eyes for a moment looked down, as if maintaining eye contact with a man as handsome as Tom Riddle was too much for his chastity. But before he casted his eyes down, Tom thought he saw something flash— _amusement_ , as if he knew exactly why Riddle would know everyone at the ball.

_Interesting._

He was right, though. No one except Tom knew the black haired boy was coming tonight. He had been a last minute guest. And it was only because Tom oversaw the ball that he knew Potter was coming. Still, he had not planned on meeting the boy tonight. He was not particularly close to the Blacks and there was no one else he knew that had ties or any sort of relationship with Regulus’ adopted son.

“It’s my job to know everyone at the ball,” he said, easily covering his lapse. “As Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. God forbid the Minister forgets _anyone_ of his guests.”

“Of course,” he said primly, the boy met his eyes again but this time he did not bother to hide his clear amusement.

Tom paused. Was the Potter heir actually _playing_ with him?

* * *

Harry Potter was not in his bedroom and Regulus Black instantly knew where he was. The boy was probably at the ministry ball, even though Regulus explicitly forbid him from attending.

But Harry had only looked at him innocently, eyes wide, and said, _“Yes, papa.”_

And at once, Regulus knew he was going to be disobeyed.

His son had always been cheeky and had always known that he could easily get away with almost anything because of his innocent appearance. It didn’t help that he got Lily’s good looks and vibrant green eyes—which he used to his advantage. He also inherited the unique smooth porcelain skin of the Potters. And even though Harry was quite short, he used even that to magnify his facade of child-like innocence. Added to all that was James’ love for mischief, which his son obviously had in abundance.

Harry always enjoyed fooling others into thinking he was harmless. So much so that Regulus had the sneaking suspicion that if he sent the boy to Hogwarts instead, the boy—after deliberating if the way his eyes would clash with the house colors was worth it—would probably be _mysteriously_ sorted into Hufflepuff when he was sneakiest snake of them all, and when the green of Slytherin obviously made his eyes pop out more.

And Regulus would only scold him half-heartedly.

Regulus knew he spoiled the boy too much and hardly ever reprimanded him every time he did something mischievous. But Regulus really couldn’t see the harm in indulging the boy. He was young and he was having fun. And who was Regulus to stop him?

Harry was probably already at the ministry ball, fluttering his eyelashes at unsuspecting politicians who didn’t know who he was, laughing shyly, and saying things like _‘You are too much for me, sir’_ eyes wide in that fake soft voice of his while he put his hand delicately on his chest.

Regulus could see it now. Harry would revel in the fact that nobody knew who he was. He would be the talk of the ball. _‘The pretty, green-eyed boy,’_ they would say. And nobody would know who he was, and they would all be properly shocked when Harry makes his formal debut.

Harry always had a taste for politics and power, and he carried himself with confidence of absolutely knowing his place in the world—he was the Potter and Black heir, the only heir in _history_ to directly and solely inherit from _two_ of the most prestigious bloodlines in Britain.

Harry was quite smug about it too.

Usually, the Black patriarch would let the boy do what he wanted. Regulus did, after all, also enjoy dabbling in the influence of his Black name. But… this was Britain, and Albus Dumbledore was here.

Regulus trusted Harry, knew he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But Dumbledore had bested even Lily Potter, the brightest witch of her generation. Albus had led James, Lily, and even Sirius to their deaths and Regulus would be damned if Dumbledore got his hands on Harry too.

But Regulus also knew that his son would not take kindly to Regulus meddling in his affairs. Underneath his playfulness, Harry was rather prideful. And father or not, Harry would _not_ hesitate to use his dark curses against anyone who got in his way.

He supposed Harry could handle himself. Unlike James and Lily, he did not grow as a child with Dumbledore. He grew with Regulus, and with Karkaroff, and he formed different ideals.

And Harry would not be easily manipulated. 

The boy would probably even enjoy sparring with the Hogwarts headmaster. Harry was bright, extremely talented, and would not subject himself to being a mere pawn in another man’s game.

_Yes,_ Regulus assured himself, he would not.

Regulus returned to his own room, humming, and not admitting to himself that what he really was, was scared to be at other end of his own son’s wand.

* * *

Harry looked at Tom Riddle under his lashes, blood rushing with excitement.

No one, _no one_ , had ever made him feel this way.

The man was ridiculously tall and even more ridiculously attractive, and that was saying something, because Harry Potter was best friends with Viktor Krum.

Harry had seen the man the moment he stepped inside the ministry ball. He wasn’t easy to miss. He was surrounded by a crowd, all of them laughing, simpering at his good looks, and hanging on to his every word. And the man had looked _smug_ with the attention.

Harry rolled his eyes. Being attractive was easy enough. It was charm that truly mattered. Looks will attract people, but it was charisma that will keep them interested.

Harry shook his head. He did not come here tonight to stare at good-looking boys who thought they were god’s gift to mankind.

He came here to find the fabled Tom Riddle.

It was summer after his sixth year that Harry realized he only had one year before coming back to Britain. 

The time has come for him to finally come face to face with Albus Dumbledore. Although he could not feel the hatred towards the old man for leading his parents to their deaths—he was too young to remember, after all—he did remember the man barging into the Black estate before Harry turned eleven. Regulus had faced him before he could find Harry, but Harry had heard the commotion, and peaked at what was happening in their drawing room.

He had heard the man demand Harry study in Hogwarts. It was the first time Harry had seen Regulus get angry. It wasn’t long until his father raised his wand at Dumbledore. Spells were thrown without rest back and forth. Regulus had called upon the Black’s family magic, to protect them against an intruder. And Dumbledore had left, not unscathed, but not before permanently injuring Regulus.

Harry and Regulus had gone to Bulgaria the very next day. Harry had asked Regulus about his limp, but Regulus had only laughed and said he was practicing dark spells.

Harry would forgive Dumbledore for his sins against the biological parents he never knew, but for him to hurt Regulus the way he did… He needed to be destroyed. To be kept out of power. Who knows how many more children he had manipulated into doing his bidding? Even his own parents… and his Uncle Sirius…

He had greedily studied Britain’s political climate in his seventh year in Durmstrang, gathered informants, and heard about the man who all but controlled the ministry. This was how he came to know Tom Marvolo Riddle.

His power in the ministry would prove too much of wildcard for Harry to carry out his revenge for Dumbledore.

And so Harry had a choice. He could make the wildcard, simply, a card.

He could be a rival. An enemy. An ally.

Harry would find out which.

But _nothing_ prepared him for meeting Tom Riddle in the flesh.

The casual elegance the man possessed would make Harry jealous if he wasn’t so enticed by it. And that voice. It was unfair, how one man could be so perfect.

Harry had been surprised when Ron told him that the ostentatiously attractive man he saw the moment he stepped into the hall was indeed Tom Riddle but Harry should have known by the way the man carried himself—like anything he wanted was within a hand’s reach.

Harry would be lying if he didn’t say he was immediately attracted.

This was _the_ Tom Riddle. He held power that was his own making, and Harry couldn’t honestly decide if he hated the man for it or admired him for it.

But Tom Riddle possessed something greater than his good looks and his power, he could offer Harry Britain without Harry lifting so much as a finger. And Harry was attractive in his own right, and could offer Tom his own influence as well.

They could be allies. They could be.

But... the spoiled pureblood in him wanted to claim, to own. Something so mesmerizing should belong to him.

So he stalked the man with his eyes, exhilaration pounding in his chest as he made his way slowly, calculating his steps until—

Harry yelped softly, wincing in pain that he did not feel. He saw the briefest flash of annoyance at Riddle’s face before it settled into a cooler expression. Harry couldn’t help but smirk at already making a crack at the man’s perfect facade so early into their meeting. Harry would have thought he’d have more challenge. He schooled his own face into that of pain. 

Harry’s heart stopped when Tom looked at him straight in the eye, piercing dark blue eyes staring right into him.

“Mr. Potter,” Tom’s deep voice greeted him pleasantly, smiling so charmingly that Harry felt as though his heart just might jump out of his chest. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Tom knew who he was. Tom _actually_ knew who he was. Excitement like Harry has never known before prickled his skin. He felt as though all the years he had spent perfecting his innocent facade was leading up to this moment.

It was play time.

He smiled back slowly, delicately. “Mr. Riddle,” he said softly. “I’ve heard so much about you as well.” Harry fought every part of his body to keep from smirking. “I’m surprised _you_ know who I am.”

Riddle’s face did not change, as if Harry’s clear goading of why Tom would know who Harry was was entirely lost on him. Harry bowed his head in complete amusement. 

“It’s my job to know everyone at the ball,” he said still smiling. “As Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. God _forbid_ the minister forgets any of his guests.”

Harry laughed inwardly. So _this_ was how he was going to play it? He raised his head again, letting Riddle see the gleam in his eye. Let the man know he knew exactly why Tom Riddle would know him.

He was _the_ pureblood heir. He was _it._ All politicians would want him at their side.

“Of course,” Harry said primly, eyes still dancing with amusement as Riddle regarded him with a charming smile at his lips.

Tom Riddle, Harry thought amused, was something else.

This was a man he wanted by his side. What they could do together… what they could accomplish… Harry almost _trembled_ at the possibilities.

* * *

Tom studied the boy. Those eyes were certainly teasing. But it was not lost on Tom how the boy knew him as well. Tom was a shadow in the ministry. Only people heavily involved in politics knew who he was. And the Potter heir had only mysteriously showed up now, just when he reached his legal age.

“I’m surprised you know me as well.” Tom said in reply.

The Potter heir laughed demurely, eyes gleaming. “You’re the only person everyone’s talking about in this ball, Mr. Riddle. They call you _the man who will become Minister_ ,” The Potter heir proclaimed dramatically, then he looked at Tom with a delicate smile. “You are considerably younger and more handsome than I thought you’d be.” 

Tom laughed charmingly.

The boy was _cheeky_.

“You flatter me, Mr. Potter, however I have no political ambitions at the moment,” Tom lied smoothly, smile still intact. He never revealed his intentions to anyone. He had simply planted certain ideas here and there, waiting for the seed to take root. _They_ would ask him to run for Minister, _they_ would think it was their idea. And Tom would look unwilling, but unable to deny the request of people who had so much belief in him. He already had it all planned out.

Green eyes danced in amusement, and the boy tsked lightly. “I’ve only landed in Britain for a few hours, Mr. Riddle, but even I can see how you are _schmoozing_ your way up to everyone here tonight.” 

His tone was too light to be threatening. But his eyes.

This night was proving to be more interesting than Tom thought.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Potter,” Tom lied again. “I am simply doing my job.” He said humbly.

The heir laughed, a rich light delighted laugh that Tom wasn’t prepared for.

It was the wine, Tom thought. It was _definitely_ the wine. 

“ _Harry_ ,” the Potter heir said amused. “You can call me Harry.”

“Harry Potter,” Tom tested the name on his lips. He looked at the boy straight in the eye. “The Potter and Black heir,” Tom said lightly as if it was not much of a big deal.

Harry Potter shook his head and raised his hand dismissively, keeping his eyes on Tom. “Only one of the hundred heirs in Britain, not even a pureblood.”

“A half-blood,” Tom repeated. Like him. “With two of the most influential Wizengamot seats at his command. The first in history.”

Potter’s eyes flashed and he smiled modestly at Tom. “Still not as powerful as the Minister.”

“Still powerful enough to sway the Minister’s decisions.” Tom said levelly.

“Depends on who the Minister is though.” Harry replied easily, looking at Tom with his wide luminous green eyes. 

Tom did not say anything, unable to take his eyes away from the Potter heir. Was that a challenge? Was the boy insinuating he would make it difficult for Tom when he became the minister?

Harry only blinked at him innocently.

“Your name,” Harry inquired tilting his head to one side. “You haven’t given me your name, Mr. Riddle.”

_“Tom,”_ he said, suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath.

“Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic,” Harry said.

“Only one of the thousand ministry workers,” Tom said modestly, mirroring Harry’s earlier casual dismissal of his influence. “Serving the country he loves in what little way he can.”

“Whose opinions heavily influence the Minister,” Harry said, a coquettish smile slowly forming at his lips. “Tell me, Mr. Riddle, is true that the minister never decides on anything without your approval?”

Tom kept his eyes on the Potter heir, careful not to reveal anything in his face. Those intelligent green eyes stared teasingly at him, watching for any sort of reaction.

It was true. Just how the Potter heir knew this, was beyond Tom Riddle.

Tom wielded power that was very unique to him. The Minister trusted him with his life and if Tom said to stop the peace talks and instead go ahead with the war in Germany, the Minister would not hesitate.

Tom was a bit perturbed that the boy knew so much about him when he only knew so little of the Potter heir. It could be that someone told him.. but there was only one person who saw beyond Tom’s charm, and that person distrusted Tom.

Dumbledore.

Then it hit him. Maybe his old headmaster had already set his claws on the boy. With a boy as powerful and as influential as this, it would be no surprise. Dumbledore would want him in his side. He had already lost Tom, he would not lose someone as instrumental as Harry Potter as well. Dumbledore would know who he was, the man knew everything. Maybe this was Dumbledore sending the boy to spite Tom.

“Are you here on your own?” Tom asked suddenly, purposefully ignoring the boy’s question.

The Potter heir’s eyes widened slightly before he recovered. He lowered his head slowly, looking at Tom through his lashes.

“ _Yes,_ ” he replied softly, voice almost a whisper.

It caught Tom off guard. But now was not the time to be incautious. 

“What a fortunate coincidence,” Tom said charmingly, suddenly reminded of who he as was and what he was capable of. He had charmed people harder to please than Potter. By god, he had even charmed the Minister. If Potter was going to play, then so was he. “I am being rewarded for my hardwork earlier than I thought I’d be.” He said suggestively, taking in the Potter heir’s whole height slowly, making sure to lick his lips as Tom met with his green eyes once more.

Harry obviously did not expect that and visibly flushed. Tom smirked. Tom was about to tease the boy a little more when—

“Harry!” a voice called.

Of _course._

Tom could not even find it him to be surprised that out of all the people Harry knew, it had to be Ron Weasley, his very own political rival.

Weasley was popular among the general populace. His stance on blood equality was renowned by the wizarding community… although looked upon by a few of the old bloods. He was also backed by Albus Dumbledore himself.

Tom knew how important the general public’s opinions are but he also knew how vital it was to actually be liked by people whose opinions actually matter, whose opinions _shape_ the wizarding world which was why he had spent the last years establishing himself in the inner workings of the ministry.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for yo—Oh, I see you met Riddle.” Tom raised an eyebrow towards Harry.

“Ron,” Harry said smiling fondly at the boy. “You were actually the one who disappeared. Mr. Riddle was kind enough to entertain me for a while.”

“Riddle,” Ron greeted, grinning to him like they were old buddies. “Good to see you here.” He was extending his hand in greeting and sometimes Tom wondered if the redhead was actually nice, or if there was more behind that goofy grin of his.

“Weasley,” he greeted back shaking the man’s hand. “I’d have thought gatherings like this do not appeal to you.” He gave the redhead a smile of his own.

To his surprise, Weasley laughed. It sounded honest. “Yeah, they don’t. But I’m here with my brother, Percy, you know, he saw the invitation and convinced me to go saying it was important.”

Tom nodded politely. The ball _was_ important. Every single person invited yielded a certain influence and power. It was the hub of establishing connections.

But that thought would probably lost on Weasley. The redhead never did strike him as a politics kind of bloke. He was very honest and didn’t seem to have the smarts about him to maneuver such a messy landscape. And he was a _Gryffindor_. Tom knew it was Dumbledore who pushed him into the ministry, and his friend Hermione Granger, brilliant as much as she was a mudblood, who assisted him in the daily dealings in the Ministry.

Ah, speak of the devil.

Granger, hair untamed as usual, appeared and told the redhead Dumbledore needed to talk to him. Granger barely acknowledged his presence which was unsurprising given the very different circles they run in and given Tom’s stance on her… blood.

The redhead turned to Harry again and grinned. “I’m about to meet with Dumbledore, Harry, let me introduce you.”

Now, Tom was definitely amused. So Harry had _not_ met his old headmaster yet. This meant Tom could still sway the boy to his side.

Suddenly, Tom realized what that meant for him, if he could get the boy to him. What Tom could do with Harry… what they could do together… Something akin to excitement _crawled_ at Tom’s skin.

 “Mr. Riddle and I haven’t finished talking, Ron, but I’ll come find you when we’re done.” Harry had said it in a way that left no room for argument. Ron looked a bit shocked by Harry choosing Tom over him but he seemed to let it slide.

“Oh-okay, Harry,” He stammered. And with one doubtful look at Tom, he left with the Granger girl without another word.

Tom looked at Harry and smirked. “Here on your own, huh?”

He thought that the Potter heir would look embarrassed at having been caught with a bald faced lie but he just shrugged.

 “I thought you meant romantically,” Harry said nonchalantly while taking a sip from his wine glass, eyes challenging him shamelessly.

It was then that it became clear to Tom that this was not just another airhead heir he was talking to. This was a _pureblood_ heir who knew exactly how powerful he was, and who  _revelled_ in that power.

Tom saw himself.

Could it truly be _this_ easy?

“As if there is any other implication,” Tom replied coolly taking a step closer to the Potter heir.

With this, the Potter heir laughed. “Nobody told me you were quite the charmer as well.”

“I never bother with those who can’t keep up with me,” Tom said, eyes unwavering.

“And exactly how many people have been able to keep up with you, Tom?” Harry asked with a teasing smile, eyes shining under the lights, gracefully taking a small step towards him.

“Not one until tonight,” Tom said without missing beat.

 They stared at each other, Tom only realizing that Harry was wearing purely white robes. The whole ensemble was probably carefully calculated to exaggerate Harry's features. It made him look twice as innocent, naive almost. His face was tilted up delicately, neck bared slightly, in an appearance of submission, but Tom knew the boy was anything _but_ submissive.

 “I’m not really a fan of using my influence to get what I want, Tom,” Harry said, voice suddenly low, swirling his wine, looking at Tom’s body up and down, drinking in the sight the taller boy made. It was lie and they both knew it. “But with you, I know it’s the only way.”

 “Is that how lowly you think of me?” Tom inquired smirk widening, taking one more step closer to the boy until they were only a few inches apart. “And what do you want, Harry?”

Harry’s hands stroked the two heir rings he wore on his fingers, one bore the Potter insignia and the other the Black’s. He lifted his chin again and leaned towards Tom until their faces were only a few centimeters apart, long lashes teasing Tom’s skin. Then his eyes met Tom’s, and Tom saw the unmistakable flash of desire.

“ _More_ ,” he breathed.

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG THIS STORY TOOK TO WRITE I WANTED EVERY WORD TO BE PERFECT AND I AM SO PROUD OF THIS??? LIKE I FEEL LIKE I DID KIND OF CAPTURE THAT INITIAL ATTRACTION FROM BOTH OF THEM??? OR IS THAT JUST MY TIRED IMAGINATION??? ((i am actually just specifically proud of the way i wrote harry and tom's pov i was like, damn sis, u on a roll. i also really liked regulus' pov that shit is one of finest povs i have written in all my life and i will fight for it to death)) i am so happy about how this turned out especially the different povs where we see how different people view harry im s0-for the first time in life i feel like i actually have a future at writing HAHA!
> 
> But this is really like one of my favorite uhm relationship dynamics for Tom and Harry. I like to paint them as equals who instantly see that e q u a l i t y and there's instant connection and wiw. Some of my future fics will be based on this. But will be different. Ish????
> 
> ANYWAY, did you love it as much as I did?
> 
> PS. For clarification, yes Regulus calls Harry son and Harry calls Regulus father bc they are cuties. Ok. Bye.


End file.
